My young adult son and I went out to a movie the other night, which is a truly rare event these days.

I currently have a TV in my bedroom so large that people watch it from the International Space Station . And a sound bar connected to it that’s so lifelike you’re tempted to call 911 when you hear a crash.

As a result, like many of you, I can’t see much point in putting on actual clothes, driving to a theater, spending 20 minutes looking for parking and then mortgaging my house to pay for everything, all to spend two hours inside a theater watching things blow up.

Because that’s what my son likes to watch. He’s a guy after all. He wants to see explosions and car chases and lots of bullets being fired from an assortment of lethal weapons. He wants to see men in sunglasses jumping fr

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